


Persistence of Memory

by tenshinokorin



Category: Final Fantasy VIII, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Guardian Forces, Multi, Multiple implied pairings, Post-Game(s), Second Chances, Work In Progress, chocobros ride again, epic shenanigans, everybody looks good in a SeeD uniform, multiple obvious pairings, no unsolicited concrit please, spoilers for everything ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-19 11:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9438707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenshinokorin/pseuds/tenshinokorin
Summary: Much has been written of the Eidolons--Guardian Forces, as they are sometimes known. Of their power and timelessness, of their sometimes humanlike quirks, and of the great costs of using them. Esthar scientists say the part of the brain responsible for junctioning them also commands memory; the summoner who calls on them does so at the cost of his or her own past. But rumors persist of occasions when use of them has insteadgrantedmemories. Memories of other times, other places, other lives. Whether or not these memories belong to the summoned or the summoner has never been satisfactorily determined, but one must fall back on the wisdom of the ages which tells us:The Eidolon knows not only who you are and have been, but also who you will be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _You’re not the first one to start again_  
>  _Come on now friends_  
>  _There is something to be said for tenacity_  
>  _I’ll hold on to you_  
>  _If you hold on to me_  
>  _Come on boys_  
>  Over the Rhine - The Laugh Of Recognition

"Morning briefing, Commander," Xu said, within a nanosecond of Squall's ass touching his desk chair. She'd been standing at the elevator like a starving torama, ready to pounce the second the doors opened, and had followed him right into his office as though afraid of losing his scent. "Let's get started." 

Squall looked at her, at the enormous stack of papers she carried, and at the cup of coffee he hadn't had a chance to drink yet. Barely a year in his command, and Squall Leonhart had learned one thing: Being in charge meant cold coffee on the regular. No wonder Cid had always had that harried look about him. 

"Xu," Squall said, putting his thumb to the bridge of his nose. Xu's presence always seemed to make his scar throb more than usual, but probably that was just the tension headache. "We've talked about this. Ten minutes. Just... give me ten minutes. Check my email. Maybe read the Garden board. Drink my damn coffee in peace." 

"It's not my fault that the leader of the largest military organization on the planet is not a morning person," Xu said mercilessly, and slapped the stack of folders down in front of him. "I have reports from the engineering team in FH, the R&D proposal from our science team in Esthar, and the files for the new students coming in this week, as well as all the daily business. Where do you want to start?" 

"Esthar's army is the largest military organization on the planet," Squall countered, because he didn't want to answer the other question. Where he wanted to start was in bed, with the blanket over his head and his alarm clock thrown out the nearest window. But that wasn't an option. Nobody ever told you that once you've saved the world you never get a day off again. 

"That's debatable. But since you mentioned Esthar, Laguna has a report for you--" 

"No," Squall said. If there was one thing he couldn't deal with without his coffee, it was his fa--Laguna. "And we both know Kiros wrote whatever he sent. Tell me about the new students. Are there a lot?" He hoped there were. The more Xu had to talk, the more coffee Squall got to drink. 

"Ah." Xu said, and then paused. "Y-yes." 

Her tone was enough to make Squall look squarely at her for the first time. She would not meet his eyes, which was never a good sign. "What is it? Do we not have enough space, or something?" 

"No, it's just--" Xu frowned, and slid the bottom folder out of the stack, passed it to Squall. "You remember, of course, the large number of misplaced and lost persons following the effects of time compression." 

"Mmm," Squall said, into his cup. "A temporal hiccup, I think Edea called it. People wound up where they might have been last week or were going to be next year. Not a big deal though. We got it sorted out pretty fast, right?" 

Xu looked decidedly uncomfortable now. "Well. Yes. Although there were a few exceptions. Some individuals who could not be placed--or who more accurately were never missing to begin with. Specifically, a small number of very young children. They were placed with Cid and Edea at the orphanage when we could not locate their parents." 

Squall blinked at her. "I don't remember that." 

Xu sighed, opened the folder in front of him, and picked up the top sheet. It had his signature on it. "You signed off on their placement, Squall," she said, dropping all formality now. 

Squall felt a prickle of discomfort creep down his spine. "Oh. Right. I mean, look at the date, Xu. It was barely three weeks after... everything. I had a lot going on." 

"Yes, I know. You went through time compression further than anyone else, you had two dozen GFs junctioned in your head at once, it's just possible you also had a concussion from when Seifer tried to graffiti your face. I'm surprised you know your own name after all that, to be honest. I'm here to remember stuff _for you_ , and it would be a lot easier if you would let me do that." 

Squall sighed. Put down his coffee cup. Folded his hands on his desk. "Fine. Sorry I don't enter every single paper I sign into my personal log. Please, Lieutenant Kisaragi. Brief me." Squall resisted the urge to say _brief me with everything you've got_ , because she would, and he wouldn't be able to escape until after lunch. Tomorrow.

Of course he had memory problems. All of them had memory problems, of varying degrees. Squall knew his were the worst, just like Irvine knew his were the lightest. They knew those internal scars as well as any they'd earned in combat. It was the price they'd paid for their magic, the price they paid to save the world. And while Squall rarely kept more than one junction active at a time these days, he remembered how it felt to share his brain with powers beyond his comprehension. Guardian Forces, indeed. A touchy-feely name Cid Kramer had come up with to soothe jittery parents and school sponsors. They were nothing of the sort. They were summons, _eidolons_ in the old legends. For Squall and his companions, the price had been their memories. For others... who knew what the gods might have demanded of them? The legends were rarely pretty, even those of Shiva, Squall's oldest and closest Summon. The others slept until he might need them; she was with him always. Sometimes, he wondered if he was simply afraid to let her go, to be alone inside himself again. He could feel her murmur even now, ice cold and smooth as glass, soothing and transparent and deadly. Beloved boy, she called him, when she acknowledged him at all. Favored servant. He shivered, and with effort, pulled himself back to the present.

"Six children, all told," Xu said, fanning the papers out in front of Squall. "Estimated to be between the ages of four and six when found. No names they could give us, no identifying features or possessions. More importantly, no memories at all." 

"Wait, that never happened with the others, did it?" 

Xu arched an eyebrow at him, as if to say that Squall could remember things if it pleased him. "Correct. Only these. They've spent the last year together at the orphanage. Two, a boy and girl, were found together. Due to their high para-magic scores they were sent to the new Esthar Garden. The other four, all boys, are coming here." 

Squall glanced over the paperwork, trying to pick out the most pertinent facts. He didn't get very far. "Who came up with these _names_?" 

Xu looked acutely uncomfortable. "You know it's Garden tradition for the Finder to name the Foundling, Sir." 

"Well, whoever found this batch needs to take the delusions of grandeur down a notch. Who was it?" 

"Me," Seifer Almasy said, with his usual impeccable timing, striding out of the elevator and into Squall's office like he owned it. Squall couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been there, waiting for an entrance cue. "Pretty rich for you to be griping about someone else's name, Lionfart." Seifer kicked out one of the guest chairs in front of Squall's desk and flopped down in it, eyeing his old rival with an inscrutable combination of antagonism and fondness. "Tell me, should I have named them all after weather patterns, or fictional animal anatomy?" 

"Seif--! Mr. Almasy." Xu caught herself just in time. "I believe you were told to wait in the guest lobby. The Garden Commander--" 

"And _I_ believe the Garden Commander was sucking my dick before you passed your first rank exam," Seifer shot back. "Don't pull this protocol shit on me, Xu. We've all known each other too long." 

Xu inhaled to go full protocol on Seifer and then some, but Squall, his face in his hands, cut her short. "Thank you, Xu," he said, in a strangled tone. "That will be all." 

Xu's furious glare did not relent. "Want me to send up a security detail, sir?" 

Squall sat back in his chair, gave Seifer a level gaze. "No, that's not necessary. I'm still confident in my ability to kick his ass." 

Seifer's expression faltered; he was the first to look away. But he said nothing until Xu had flounced back to the elevator, and they were alone. "And it's good to see you too." In spite of the sneer in his voice, he was actually smiling. Squall believed him, because as strange as it was, he felt the same. 

"Likewise. Nice Esthar Special Forces Uniform you've got there." 

Seifer smoothed a hand over his hair, tugged lightly at the lapel of his jacket. "Yeah well, some of us have to have real jobs." 

"Real jobs working for my dad?" Squall asked, all innocence, and then kept going before Seifer could retort. "Seriously though," he jabbed a finger at the papers on his desk, "what the hell is with these kids' names?" 

Seifer gave him a sidelong glance. "They're from a book I read as a kid. History. Myths and Legends. Which you might have time to read yourself if you weren't so busy _being_ one." 

Squall rolled his eyes and stood up. Seifer's presence still made him restless. "Fine. But don't blame me if they get teased all the time. I don't know why you couldn't just give them norm--" 

"Squall," Seifer said, and it was enough to bring Squall up short. "Did you even look at their dossiers?" He leaned forward in his chair, folded hands between his knees, face intent. He was always intense, but something about him now--whether it was his face or the military uniform--gave off an air of solemnity more fitting a general than Squall's old school bully. "At where we found them?" 

Squall had not. But now he gathered the papers in one hand, tilted them to the high glass skylight of his office to see the small type better. 

"Most of the displaced people were within five miles of home," Seifer continued. "Nowhere weird or uncivilized. These six--" 

"Centra Continent Ruins," Squall read, his brow furrowing more with every turned page. "Tear's Point, Esthar. Deep Sea Research Center. Tomb of the Unknown Ki--" Squall broke off, looked at Seifer in undisguised disbelief. "You found a _kid_ wandering around the Tomb of the Unknown King?" 

Seifer's laugh was short, humorless. "Not wandering, Leonhart. Waiting. Sitting in the middle of everything on the main crypt like he owned it, just waiting to be picked up. They were all like that. Just waiting, in some of the most godsforsaken places on this planet." 

"That's... weird." 

"To put it lightly. They seem normal enough now, though." 

"Names aside." Squall riffled through the sheaf of papers again. "How did you even know to _find_ them in these places?"

Seifer shrugged. "I didn't. Fuu did." 

There was a long pause between them. "Seifer. Is she--" 

"A sorceress?" Seifer's smile was gunblade-sharp, and just as loaded. "Yes. And safely registered in the database in Esthar, just like yours. But I didn't come here to talk about our Sorceresses, or my girlfriends." 

Squall flinched, a tiny twitch of his mouth. "Then why did you come here?" 

"To see my kids off safe, of course. I'm the one that brought them here for Edea." Seifer stood. "And to tell you--Don't fuck this up. These kids are special, Squall. If I'm wrong, feel free to come give me another scar." Seifer Almasy tossed off a mocking SeeD salute before he turned to go, leaving the Commander of Balamb Garden alone in his office with his paperwork. 

Squall sat down at his desk, pulled out a pen, and after a moment's consideration, signed his name on the bottom of the entry forms for four new Balamb Garden students. 

_Gladiolus Amacitia. Ignis Scientia. Prompto Argentum. Noctis Lucis Caelem._

Then, at last, he got to finish drinking his coffee. 

It was cold.


	2. Chapter 2

_Twelve years later..._

"Twenty-seven point three seconds!" Prompto crowed, leaning over the table to brandish his cell phone in Ignis' face. The email containing his firearms midterm score was displayed on the screen, not that anyone could read it, because Prompto wouldn't hold it still long enough. "Kinneas said he'd never seen anyone do the speed trial that fast. And that's assembling, loading, firing, unloading, and disassembling an Exeter rifle--with a scope!" 

"We _know_ , Prompto," Noctis said, carefully picking all the carrots out of his fried rice. "We all took the same test." 

"With varying results," Ignis said, and looked down at the growing pile of discarded carrots on the side of his plate. "I believe it took you over a minute, Noct-- will you _stop_ that?" 

"No," Noctis said, and didn't. 

Ignis sighed, and added the carrots to his own rice. He hated to see food go to waste. "If you don't like it, why did you order it?" 

"They were out of hot dogs." 

"They're always out of hot dogs," Prompto said, in a hurry to end any conversation that wasn't about his high score. "Look, Gladio. He said I have the best aptitude for firearms he's seen in our whole class, maybe even in years." 

Gladio batted Prompto away as though he was a persistent fly, without even bothering to look up from his book. "Do you mind? I've got my Strategy exam with Trepe tomorrow, and she's not known for being lenient on her grading. Unlike _some_ people." 

"What are you implying?" Prompto shot back, hotly. "Are you saying I didn't do my trial that fast? Because I--" 

"Now now, Prompto, sit down." Ignis raised both hands. He was the peacemaker, as always, and had been for as long as any of them could recall. Which, due to Garden's policy of highly restricted GF use for students, was quite far. At least as far back to their first year of classes together, and even some murky memories of a lighthouse by the sea, and the kindly couple that had taken them in there. "Nobody doubts your excellent Firearms score." 

"Or your terrible History score," Noct added, cheerfully. 

"It's only that everyone in the entire cafeteria has heard about it," Ignis continued. 

"Several times," Gladio grumbled, and scribbled furiously in the margin of his textbook. 

Prompto opened his mouth, then shut it as he looked around the room. The other students were sending him annoyed side-eye or outright glares; there was a good quantity of unhappy muttering. One of the upperclassmen said something quite audible about the perks of being the teacher's pet, and Prompto sank back down in his seat with his ears burning with humiliation. 

"Aw, Iggy. Look what you've done now," Noctis said, finally deeming his rice de-carroted enough to eat. "You've gone and made him cry." 

"I'm not crying," Prompto retorted, from somewhere deep in the collar of his student uniform. "I'm just... my eyes water when I get upset, okay?" 

"And that's not crying how--OW!" Noct wondered, before Ignis stepped on his foot under the table. 

"Of course we know that," Ignis said soothingly, and moved the brownie from his plate to Prompto's empty one. "Here, cheer up. Have my dessert. As congratulations for your score." 

Prompto looked the other way, blinking furiously. "Don't you act like you can bribe me, Ignis," he said, scowling. 

"I wouldn't dream of it," Ignis assured him. 

Prompto gave him the tiniest glance out of the corner of his eye, and then an equally tiny glance to the brownie. He waited what he deemed a reasonable amount of time--which was far shorter than the time it took him to do his firearms trial--and then snatched the brownie and crammed it entirely into his mouth. "Bine. Juft fiss onfce," he said. Or something near to it. 

Gladio slammed his book shut. "Ramuh on a _raft_ ," he swore. "I'm going to the library. Or the Training Center. It'd be easier to study with a t-rex chewing on my head than listening to you three." 

They watched him go with varying degrees of dismay, and when he was out of earshot Ignis confided to the others, "He'll be fine. It's just that Instructor Trepe makes him so flustered, it's almost adorable." 

"She makes everybody flustered," Prompto said, brownie already gone. 

"Everybody except Ignis," Noctis carefully peeled the shiny top layer off his own brownie. "'Cos she's hot." 

"I _know_ , right?" Prompto leaned in as though Lt. Commander Trepe's hotness was some great secret. "Isn't she like, old enough to be our mom?" 

"Hardly!" Ignis said, scandalized, and then took a moment to consider. "Well. Perhaps _biologically_ , but--" 

" _Ew._ " Noctis said, with feeling. 

Prompto was shocked down to his core. "Okay look, I know she might not be your type, Noct, but nothing about Instructor Trepe is 'ew' by any stretch of--" 

"No," Noctis said, poking his dissected brownie with a spork. "Not 'Ew, Quistis,' just 'Ew, this thing has walnuts in it.' Gross. Do you want it?" 

"See here, walnuts are a valuable source of--" Ignis began.

"--Making me so totally fat," Prompto finished for him, and then inhaled Noct's brownie, walnuts and all. "Fo! Youf guyf hrf fa rufor?" 

"Please," Ignis said, looking ill, "It's bad enough watching Noct _desecrate_ it, I don't want to see you _eat_ it. But by your garbled statement, I assume you mean the rumor about the field exam coming up this month?" 

Prompto swallowed, and then tossed back the rest of Gladio's abandoned milk. "Yeah," he gasped. "You think it's true? We'll have to do our Pre-req. Which means we get GFs." 

"Oh, dear," Ignis said, and tipped his glasses up. "I hope you're all in the habit of keeping a journal already." 

"What, the memory loss stuff?" Prompto shrugged expansively. "I'm pretty sure that's all overstated. I mean, back during the war, all the Garden officers had multiple junctions, didn't they? And none of them forget a quiz date or when my homework's due, that's for damn sure." 

"The memories claimed by Eidolons tend to be far... deeper," Ignis said, with a tiny frown. "Though I suppose it's the price we pay for the lives we have. _Bereft of Father, Bereft of Mother_ , as the old play goes. We owe Garden for our education, a roof over our heads, our upkeep... everything we have. It's no small debt for four penniless foundlings." 

"Guess being a SeeD means something different to us than to the others," Noct carefully laid his napkin over the messy remains of his lunch, like a shroud. "It's not like--" 

He broke off, interrupted by the persistent buzzing of his cell phone, as well as Prompto's and Ignis'. There was a moment of tense silence as they checked their texts, and then looked at each other, knowing without saying it that they'd all gotten the same sort of message. A second text bounced through to all of them right after: Gladio had also gotten his orders. 

_Meet up with your faculty support for your SeeD exam pre-requisite. This is a practical exam. You will be going into a combat situation with the goal of obtaining your first GF. Equip yourself accordingly. Please note: you are excused from any afternoon classes. Please see your instructor afterwards for any make-up work._

"Well," Prompto said, very white now under his freckles. "I guess this is it." 

"I guess it is," Ignis said, gathering up his plate as well as Gladio's. "And as we've all been given a very short amount of time to prepare, allow me to wish us all luck now." 

"I've got Kinneas," Prompto said. "That's good. How about you guys?" 

"Trepe for me," Ignis answered. "Just as well, as it means Gladio won't. If I had to hazard a guess he's probably got Dincht or Tilmitt, both good options for him. Noct?" 

"Nida," Noct said, with a groan. "Why'd I have to get the biggest pain in the--" 

"We have fifteen minutes to report, Noct," Ignis interrupted. "I suspect we should use it to get ready." 

 

Fourteen minutes and twelve seconds later the four of them were waiting at the aft end of the Garden's main ring, near the Garden entrance. Or at least, what had been the main entrance years ago, when the Garden was still a stationary building. Now it was mostly the Garden map, a couple of potted ferns, and the easiest location for all meetings, formal and informal. Ignis was examining the map console as though he didn't already have it memorized a decade ago. Prompto was pacing. Gladio was still studying. Noct, who had gotten there first, was nodding off on a bench. 

"Look at 'em," Zell said, from his vantage point by the classrooms one floor up, leaning over the rail along with his fellow officers. "What are they, seventeen? I mean, we saved the world at their age. It's terrifying now. Did we look that tiny?" 

"You're _still_ that tiny, Zell," Irvine said, tightening his ponytail for the umpteenth time. "Shiva's titties. Do you think they have any idea we're probably more nervous about this than they are? I hate giving exams." 

"They'll be fine," Quistis said. She felt no need to check her equipment, having done so well in advance. "These four have always been... fine. In their own way."

"Sure," Irvine agreed, because he found it generally a good idea to agree with his wife, whether or not that fact was common knowledge among their students. "It's me I'm worried about. That Argentum kid makes me feel like I'm a hundred and two. Did you hear about his firearms practical?" 

Quistis gave him a cool look. "From my understanding, _everybody_ heard about his firearms practical." She checked her phone, allowed a tiny note of annoyance to creep into her voice. "Where is Nida? He's supposed to be--"

The elevator doors dinged open to let the other three on, and Squall Leonhart was waiting inside. "Nida's not coming," he said. "I'm doing it. Let's go." 

 

"So," Prompto said, looking at his phone for the third time in a minute. " _How_ long do you have to wait for your professor to show up before class is officially canceled? Is it fifteen minutes or ten minutes, I can never remember." 

"Don't think that matters for this," Gladio said. "We wait until we--" He broke off, book vanishing inside his jacket as he snapped to attention, arm raised palm-inwards in a sharp salute. " _Sir!_ " 

The others hurried to follow suit, Noctis getting into formation just as quickly in spite of showing all signs of being sound asleep two seconds before. 

At thirty years old--thirteen years into his Command of Balamb Garden and the SeeD forces across the globe--Squall Leonhart was every inch the hero the papers had made him out to be back when he was little more than an anxious teenager. His hair fell to his shoulders in a ragged mane, his old scar shone white across his forehead, and time and experience had only deepened the strange, endless gray of his eyes. There was still something of a dangerous swagger to his stride, to the clink and rattle of his gunbelts as he walked, a sound which every Garden student knew (and had brought Gladio to such swift attention). Squall was the Lion of Balamb, and had seen the Very End of Time. It was a fact that nobody, having once met him, could ever doubt again. 

He was yawning as he came down the stairs to the lobby. 

"Squall," Quistis said in a pained whisper as she followed him. " _Must_ you?" 

"Not my fault," Squall muttered back. "Zell kept me up last night." 

"Yeah," Irvine snorted. "Literally. Our suite's next to yours, you know, do you think you two could keep it down?" 

Zell was blushing, a fact that his tattoos--on both sides of his face now, and framed neatly by a pale blond goatee--did a good job of hiding. "Irvine. Not in front of the kids." 

"Which kids are those?" Quistis said, rolling her eyes. "Because I sure don't see anyone acting like adults here--" 

"Gentlemen," Squall said, raising his voice both to cut Quistis off and to be heard by the students waiting below. "At ease." 

The four students lowered their salutes, but Squall could tell, as all the officers could, that asking them to be at ease was a tall order. Squall walked down in front of them, looked them over, and finally leaned against the map display, arms and ankles crossed.

"Right," he began. "I'll make this brief. I'm sure you all have a good idea of what this entails, and I hope you'll take encouragement from the fact that you wouldn't be here if we didn't think you were ready. This is not only to see if you can obtain a Guardian Force, it's to test your ability to operate as a SeeD in a combat situation. Remember, your escort is more than your instructor and your commanding officer, they're also your support. In this scenario, they will be operating under your orders, until such time as you complete your task or are incapacitated in the effort. Questions?" 

"Sir," Noctis said, looking around the lobby in confusion, "I thought Nida--" 

"Captain Nida," Quistis and Ignis corrected him, at the same time. 

Squall waved them both down, after a moment's consternation as he tried to sort out which one of them he should dismiss first. "Right. About that. My apologies for the change in plans, Caelum. I'll be acting as your support on this exam. Anything else? Good. Everyone, you have two minutes. Make one last check of your equipment, then go with your Instructor to board your vessel. I'll expect to see you all back here tonight. Do your best. That is all." 

"Oh em _gee_ ," Prompto squeaked to Noct. "You're doing your test with Squall? I'm so-- so-- so scared on your behalf, actually." 

"No big deal," Noctis said, in a way that was almost convincing. "Makes more sense anyway, since we're both using a gunblade." 

"Yeah? Well, try not to piss yourself, Noct. You two, either. I'm out." His well-wishes dispensed, Gladiolus followed Lt. Commander Dincht to the elevator. 

"Good luck, you guys!" Prompto bumped his fist with Noct's, tossed a lazy salute at Ignis, and hurried after. 

"When you're ready, Ignis," Quistis called. 

"Yes, Ma'am." Ignis glanced back at Noct. "You all right?" 

"Sure." 

"...Terrified?" 

Noct's bland expression did not change one iota. "Yep." 

Ignis smiled at him. "You'll do fine. Come along, they're waiting--" 

"Sorry," Squall broke in, and waved Ignis towards the elevator. "You go ahead, we're taking another way." 

Ignis saluted his commander, gave Noct one last encouraging nod, and joined the others in the elevator. In a moment it had descended to the Garden's lowest level, to the moon pool where the swift SeeD submersibles were kept docked when Balamb Garden was at sea. 

"We're not taking a boat?" Noct asked, as the elevator returned empty to the main floor, and Squall got on, holding the door for Noct to board behind him.

The Garden Commander's smile was fleeting, but undeniably eager. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket, a battered plastic moomba dangling from one ring, and hit the button for the top level. "We're not," he said, "taking a boat." 

*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The violence of the storm.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Sir?" 

Irvine glanced over to the passenger seat of the Garden jeep. They'd left the boat a little over an hour ago, and were roaring through the Galbadian badlands at a steady clip. Prompto, no doubt nervous about his test, had been surprisingly quiet the entire ride. 

"You can," Irvine said, "But only if you do me a favor and drop the _sir_. How about you just call me Irvine until we get back to Balamb G? I won't tell anybody." 

Prompto's eyes widened a little at this immense breach of protocol. "Uh. Is that part of the test? Should I say no?" 

Irvine shook his head in dismay. "Man. It's a cynical generation we're raising, isn't it? I guess that's military school for you." He shifted uneasily in the seat, more than the rough terrain called for. "Listen, Prompto. Tell you a little secret. I am where I am because this is where I wound up in life, but it doesn't mean I have to love everything about it. It's a military outfit, and we've got a pretty lofty purpose, but let's not kid ourselves. We're mercenaries, and I've always thought mercenaries should be a little bit more relaxed about things. Besides. You keep calling me _Sir_ like that and I'll fall over into my own grave of old age before I'm thirty-five." 

Prompto laughed nervously, but he nodded, relieved. "O-okay. Irvine." 

"That's better." It had started to rain, fat drops falling like bullets on the dusty windshield, and Irvine turned on the wipers. "What's your question, Prompto?" 

"Is it true?" Prompto ran a fingertip along the faded fake leather grain of the dashboard. "About GFs? Can they really take your memories away?" 

"It's true," Irvine said, and at Prompto's stricken expression he wished he'd found a way to put it more gently. In retrospect, Irvine thought he should have been prepared for the question. "Does that scare you?" 

"Yes," Prompto admitted, in a small voice. "It scares me to death." 

"Good," Irvine said, with feeling. "It should. I'll tell you a story, kid. I grew up with Squall and the others at the orphanage, just like you and your friends. We wound up going to different Gardens, though, and when I met them again a few years later, I knew them, but they didn't know me. They'd all been using Eidolons and they'd never realized--never been decently warned--of the dangers. Imagine that. You bump into Noct and remember when he was a brat in short pants who cried all the time and was always crawling into your bunk during thunderstorms, and now suddenly he's this total-ass-stranger who doesn't know you from Gilgamesh." 

Prompto sucked in a sharp breath, and from a quick look at his face, Irvine realized he might have gone too far. "Hey," he said, in a gentler voice. "Don't worry. It won't happen that way for you. But that's how it used to be, and that's why Balamb G doesn't hand out GFs like candy anymore. You make sure you keep a diary of things you want to remember--or however you want to keep a record--and you won't lose it." 

Prompto put a hand to his jacket pocket. "I--I take a lot of pictures," he said, and pulled out a battered and well-loved camera, the chrome paint all worn off on the shutter button. "Matron gave this to me when we left the orphanage to come to Garden." For a moment he considered the camera, its faded dials and carefully-polished lens. When he spoke it was as though to himself. "I wonder. ...Did she know?" 

Irvine felt a strange prickle at the back of his neck. It wasn't cold; the air conditioner in the car was spotty at best and even with the cloudburst the badlands were still sweltering. It felt instead like the touch of something uncanny, of raw magic instead of the sanitized and neatly-bundled para-spells the Garden gave its students. It made Irvine think of a castle hovering on the edges of time, and he shivered. 

"Sir?" Prompto said, forgetting he was supposed to be less formal. "Are you okay?" 

Irvine scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah. But I don't know, about Mat--about Edea. She knows what she knows, but what she tells is a whole lot less. Did she give anything to the others?" 

Prompto furrowed his brow. It had been a long time ago, and while his camera got used every day, he had not seen the other items as often. "There were some books. I think Gladio and Ignis both got books. Oh, I remember now! Ignis got a bunch of recipes, because he always liked helping Matron in the kitchen. So she wrote down some of the things she made all the time and gave them to Ignis in a journal, so he'd be able to make them on his own. He's a good cook, you know? Much as you can be with a dorm microwave and a hot plate." 

Irvine smiled at a fond memory. "Did it have those sticky buns she always used to make? The spiced ones?" 

"Yes!" Prompto smiled for the first time since leaving the Garden. "The ones with the--" 

" _Orange glaze_ ," they said together, and then laughed. Irvine gave him a warm look over the gear shift. "See, Prompto? You can't go around calling me Sir, I'm practically your older brother." 

Prompto went very pink in a pleased way, and fiddled with his camera. 

"You remember the others?" Irvine asked, in what he hoped was a casual tone. He had not felt that strange chill again, but the memory of it still trailed tingling fingertips down his spine. "What they got? 

"Gladio's books were history ones, I think." Prompto said. "He was always reading. Anything he could get his hands on. Poetry, plays. Thought he was gonna cry when we got to Garden the first day and he saw the library." 

"Did Noctis get a book, too?" 

"No," Prompto said, without hesitation. "He got a little figurine of some kind. Used to keep it on his bookshelf, but I haven't seen it for a while." He wiped a clean patch in the foggy glass of the window, trying to form a vague shape with long ears. "I don't remember what it was, exactly. It was green." 

Irvine waited for some kind of premonition, but there was nothing. Whatever strange thread of fate had brushed over them, it didn't have to do with the others. "So," he said, and he was more relieved than he'd expected to be to change the subject, "I answered your question, so now let me ask you one. Why'd you pick guns? For your weapons focus, I mean." 

Prompto blinked at him, and then at the rain-streaked landscape. "I... I don't know. Because I like mechanical things, I guess? They're versatile, and I've always had good aim... It just seemed the natural choice. I never really thought about doing anything else." 

"Hmm." 

"Is that a bad answer?" 

Irvine shrugged. "Nah. It's fine. It's better than mine was, anyway." 

"Why? What was your reason for choosing firearms?" 

Irvine narrowed his eyes at the thunderclouds on the horizon. They were way too heavy for the season, and he didn't like the looks of them. "Because when I was your age, Prompto, the thing I was the most afraid of was of getting too close." 

 

The rain had not slacked off by the time they pulled into a cracked asphalt parking lot, its borders marked off by a tall fence of rusting chain-link. Old tumbleweed had piled up along the fence line, and the rain thudded hard against the concrete foundations and blackened walls of some modern ruin. It didn't seem to Prompto like the kind of place to find an ancient and mystical power, but Irvine parked the jeep there anyway (sideways, deliberately across the faded yellow markings on the lot) and reached in the back seat for his rifle.

"You ready for this, Prompto?" 

Prompto preferred handguns to the longer-range weapons Irvine used, and he picked up his gunbelt from between his boots, trying to get a good look at the location through the smeary windshield. "I hope so. What is this place?" 

"Old Galbadian missile base," Irvine answered, whistling as he pocketed a few potions for good measure. "Hasn't been operational in over a decade. Full of monsters now. Though I guess you could argue it was full of monsters before." He snorted in disgust. "Don't know who else but monsters would fire rockets at a goddamn school fulla kids." 

Prompto shivered as he stepped out into the rain, but he was still compelled by the crazily-tilting brick walls and the twisted rebar. "What happened to it?" 

Irvine laughed as he shut the car door, rain dribbling down onto the battered brim of his hat. "I blew it up." 

Prompto stared at him. "Y-you--" 

"Well, not just me," Irvine said, as they made their way across the parking lot to the relative shelter of the ruins. "Selphie did most of the blowing-up. Quisty did most of the bitching and moaning. Less moaning than I would have liked." Irvine cocked his rifle with a brisk and familiar motion, and wiped the dripping rain from the edge of his hat. "Shit, though. I was expecting better weather today. C'mon, Argentum. Let's get you a pet."

 

The tests used to be timed, Prompto knew. He was glad they didn't do that anymore, instead leaving the performance assessment up to the instructor. Prompto had read up on the test; he knew what they were looking for. It was like a mini SeeD exam. Did the cadet show a proper sense of urgency balanced with good judgement? Did he or she fight when needed, withdraw when needed, and keep a watchful eye on the party's health and stamina? Was the cadet ever-aware of the old Garden adage, _Do not engage in battles beyond your ability_? 

Prompto went into the ruined missile base trying to keep all that in mind. But as the hordes of Forbiddens swarmed around them--along with nasties of every other stripe--Prompto's main focus quickly clarified into not getting killed. Irvine was as good as his word to be support only; Prompto was sure he could have blown the whole monster infestation clean into next week without even having to stop to reload twice. Instead he tossed potions at Prompto and kept up their health with cure spells, cure spells that left a taste of salt water in the back of Prompto's mouth and hit him with the cool mist of the sea on a summer day. When Irvine finally summoned his GF, Prompto saw why. 

Siren was full of wings, colored like a sunrise, luscious as a ripe peach, and beautiful beyond words. She smiled at Prompto as she bloomed forth at Irvine's call, and Prompto felt his knees go to water as her feathers and her fingertips brushed his face. 

"Easy there, loverboy," Irvine laughed, taking Prompto's elbow as he swayed. "She's too old for you. And me. And basically anyone." 

Siren laughed at this and vanished in a fall of bright feathers and a shiver of harp music, leaving the old missile base in the middle of Galbadia smelling like a beach the morning after a storm. Prompto brought his gun up, but there was nothing to shoot; Siren had washed all the monsters away. 

"Wow." Prompto breathed, reverently. " _Wow_. I didn't know GFs could look like that. I've--I've never even seen one. Not in person." 

Irvine shouldered his rifle. "Worth losing a few memories over, huh? She's a handful, I'll give you that. And probably more than that fight needed, but I haven't let her play in a while. Don't tell Squall." 

"I won't," Prompto swore, and shook himself. There were a lot of things he had braced for during this test, but the sudden tightness in his chest (and around his belt) was not one of them. "Man. Does she have any sisters?" 

"Ha!" Irvine swatted Prompto's shoulder. "Seriously though. Don't give her any ideas. She likes them young and pretty. I'll be out a GF if I don't watch it. Better go find yours before she volunteers to be it." 

Prompto actually took a step back, reaching out to catch himself on a half-melted computer terminal, its screens all dark. "She thinks I'm _pretty_?"

Irvine adjusted his still-soggy hat. "...Hooboy. Don't start. Now, it should be waiting right around here somewhere..." 

From somewhere above them came the retort of thunder, as the storm swept by overhead. They were several levels down into the heart of the old silo, but large sections were still open to the sky, where the rain poured in, and the lightning flashed like distant artillery. 

"Isn't it kind of... stormy for Galbadia in the springtime?" Prompto asked, but before Irvine could answer he was interrupted by an electric crackle as all the long-dead computer terminals flickered to life, their screens full of shuddering green text and login requests for officers long since dead, and missiles long since fired. 

"What the _hell_ ," Irvine swore, as thin threads of energy crackled and snapped all over the atmosphere, and the air was filled with the ozone scent of a thunderstorm. "There hasn't been power out here for years." 

Prompto, unnerved to near panic, leveled his guns at every leaping shadow, but they were all only their own, cast high on the chipped cinderblock walls by the arcing bursts of electricity. "Si--Irvine? Is this from the GF? Where--where is it?" 

"It sure as shit isn't where it's supposed to--" Irvine broke off with a shout and snatched Prompto back by his shoulder, throwing him to the ground and firing wildly behind him as something vast and swift tore down at them from the sky, its scream deafening. "Get up. Prompto. Get up. We need cover." 

"I'm up, I'm--" Prompto's voice died. All the rain seemed to have stopped, but Prompto just realized that the storm had never been more fierce. It was only that something huge was hovering above them, something holding back the rain with its slowly beating wings. The whole sky was blocked by a great, golden shape, and the lightning played adoringly around its gleaming pinions. "Mother of Bahamu--Irvine _what is that thing_?" 

"I know that bird," Irvine said, rifle still raised. "What's _she_ doing here?"

"Is it an Eidolon?" 

It lunged at them with a skirling cry and Irvine dragged Prompto behind the nearest console, seconds before the cement where they had been standing was shattered with a crackle of electricity. 

"It's Quezacotl," Irvine panted, reloading his rifle. "She was Zell's. He carried her all through the war and when it was done he let her go. Said he couldn't keep her. It wasn't right. Hell if I know, Dincht can be weird when he wants to be." 

"Let her _go_?" Prompto repeated, trying to draw a bead on the massive bird and somehow barely nicking her trailing tail, in spite of her huge size. "Nobody's ever just let a GF go before, have they?" 

"Zell did," Irvine said, and his shot--worryingly--was not much better. The thunderbird let out a deafening scream of fury, and their meager shelter shuddered at the force of her wings. "After powering her up to Hyne knows what level during all our fights. She's too much for the two of us, I can tell you that." 

Prompto made a face at him, shoving a fresh round of bullets into his buntline .45. "Yeah okay that's fine but if it's so powerful you mind explaining to me why that flying nightmare is _my test prerequisite_?!" 

"She ain't, kid," Irvine leaned up to get a look at Quezacotl, and then dove back under the console again, a fork of lightning barely missing his hat. "You were supposed to get Cerberus. I had Seifie take him out here this morning. He's not here; and he's not likely to come out now, not with that goddamn inflatable weather balloon trying to kill us." 

Prompto felt a cold dread close around his heart. "You--you mean this isn't my test?" 

"Oh, sure," Irvine laughed bitterly, squeezing off another, equally useless shot. "Go ahead. Ask her if you want. I'll stay back here, since I'm not planning to die today. And unless you are, I'd just sit the fuck tight until she goes somewhere else. Don't worry, I won't fail you for it. She's probably just following the storm, she'll go when it goes. I hope." 

Prompto tried to swallow, but his mouth was as dry as the countryside was supposed to be. "Is that why it's been raining? Because she's here?" 

"Do I look like a meteorologist to you, Argentum?" 

_I remember you._

"What?" Prompto shouted, badly startled by the voice. The storm had gotten very loud, and the wind howled through the old depot. 

"I said," Irvine yelled back, not realizing Prompto hadn't asked _him_ , "do I look like a--" 

_Or have we not yet met? It is hard to say._

Prompto slid down against the console, both eyes shut, hands over his ears. It didn't help. The voice was coming from all around him, inside him, under his fingernails and threading through his veins. It was a voice like a woman's, if a woman was as ageless and unending as the sky. 

_It was a cage, the cage of a city, beneath a lake. I could not see the sun but dimly through the mere, drowned deep for years, and for all the great-grandchildren of those years. I could not stretch my wings. You came, you and others, and freed me from my torment. It was a sweet death. A good death. I was glad of it. There was no other escape for me._

"Stop," Prompto breathed, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "I don't-- I've never killed anyone." 

"Prompto?" Irvine looked up. The great bird hung against the storm clouds like a battle pennant, neither attacking nor retreating. Prompto, for his part, was past hearing Irvine, curled up under the console with his face pressed to his knees, shaking violently.

_A favor is owed. A favor is granted. Call my name, child._

Prompto lifted his head. "Wha--what?" 

_I will abide with you a while._

Lightning ripped through the sky, blinding white and blue, brighter than any so far. When it faded, the sky above them was clear. Quezacotl was gone.

"Shhii-vah." Irvine said, scrambling to his feet and looking around at the rain-washed ruins, gleaming like silver in the bright sunlight. "That was close. I think she's gone, though. You okay, Prompto?" 

Prompto sat on the cracked concrete, staring at his hands. A pale blue filament of electricity ghosted between his finger and his thumb, and vanished. "She's not... She didn't go. She came. Here. For me." 

Irvine stared. "You... _junctioned_ her? Quezacotl?!" 

"I--" Prompto put the heel of his hand over his heart. "Yeah. I just..." He shook himself, and looked up at Irvine in alarm. "No, wait! You said I was supposed to get Cerberus! I can't... Oh, no... did I fail?"

Irvine was startled into laughter, and he took off his hat and beat it against his leg a minute before he could manage to answer. "No, Prompto," he said, grinning at his student, "I'd say you've just passed with flying colors."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fortress, the fire, the fox.

"It's been a while since we had a greatsword cadet," Zell said, as he jumped easily over the low wall, half-hidden in the tall grass around the ruins. Very little remained of the structures that once dotted the Centra Plains; they had fallen to ruin millennia ago. "All the kiddos want gunblades." 

"Huh," Gladio said, no less agile as he followed his instructor across the terrain, in spite of his considerable difference in size. "If you ask me, a gunblade's kind of a shitty gun attached to kind of a shitty sword." 

Zell's response was a burst of laughter, he had to put one hand out to an ivy-covered column to brace himself. "Oh man. I can just imagine Squall's face if I said that. Or Seifer's. Seifer's would be funnier." 

Gladio had a moment's regret for his glib comment, but it was too easy to be casual instead of professional around his instructor, no matter how he tried. Commander Zell Dincht was not the kind of guy one would expect to be a great hero; he was barely the kind of guy one would take for an officer at all, to say nothing of a teacher. Gladio had taken hand-to-hand training under him as a kid--everyone in Garden had. He was an upbeat and patient teacher, but enduringly goofy and obviously short. Rumors persisted that he'd only saved the world because he'd happened to be along for the ride, and had only kept his rank afterwards because he was sleeping with Leonhart. An hour ago, Gladio had thought the same. But then a massive hexdragon had ambushed them only for Zell to kill it in one blow before it even came within range of Gladio's blade, and he'd changed his mind. Those muscles weren't for show.

"That one was a bit too much for you," Zell had said afterwards, dusting off his hands as though he'd done nothing more strenuous than a pushup, while the ground still trembled from the beast's death throes. "Sorry, thought I cleaned out all the hard stuff here last week. Must have missed one." 

Since then, Gladio had kept one eye on his task, and the other on his instructor. Zell was all jokes and smiles between battles, but when the fight came on him it set his face into grim lines, and his prowess was in full evidence with every blow he struck, every spell he cast. They'd come several miles through the Centra plains and nothing yet had managed to stand up to the two inches of deadly force across the man's knuckles. Gladio did not take long to realize he was in the company of a cunning and deadly combatant, and as the test went on his admiration only increased. Only once in the entire time did Zell Dincht ever show hesitation or doubt, and that was when the cry of some great bird of prey, at some invisible distance, rang out through the ruins. Zell looked up sharply at the sky, and there was a strange brightness in his eyes that Gladio could neither understand or explain, but it was gone too quickly for him to do more than wonder at it.

"Everybody thinks they're outdated," Zell continued now, while Gladio fervently hoped he would not pass on his comment about gunblades to Squall. "Greatswords, I mean. But they used to say that about gunblades, too." Zell cracked his knuckles and flashed a smile at Gladio. "Hand combat too, actually. I had to have my gloves custom-made by the Garden weaponer when I was twelve, and I took monk-style focus as an independent major. Nobody to teach me. All the more reason nobody ever expected me to make it to graduation day. Said Dincht was too dumb to use a goddamn gun--Oh, crap." Zell spun on his heel in the loose gravel and went by Gladio with the speed of a runaway train. Gladio was still lifting his sword when there was a wet crunch of blood and bone from behind him. "That's _two_ I missed." Zell said, as the second hexdragon slumped down in the rocks. "Dammit, is it breeding season for these things, or am I losing my touch?" 

"I don't think you're losing your touch," Gladio said, as the beast expired noisily, its thrashing tail knocking out a fragment of ancient wall, great talons digging gouges in the dirt. "But you've gotta let me do some of this, sir. It's my test, right? Gonna flunk if you keep killing things before I even know they're there." 

"Test?" Zell blinked at him, and then laughed. "Oh, no. This isn't your test. I was just trying to get us somewhere clear enough to do it." He looked around the ruin, which had perhaps been a great plaza or arena in some long-ago aeon. Now it was just a level field dotted with listing columns, like broken teeth in a grassy mouth opened to the sky. "I guess this'll do, if you want to get started." 

Gladio looked at Zell, and at the whole windswept plain beyond him. There was absolutely nothing around, and certainly not a Guardian Force. 

"Uh," Gladio said, and then wished he'd thought of something more intelligent. "Isn't... isn't there supposed to be a GF for me to fight?" 

"Oh, there is." And there was nothing careless about Zell now, or the very deliberate way he tightened his gloves, dragon-scales flashing in the sunlight. "It's right here, actually." He tapped his breast--an odd gesture when everyone else seemed to indicate a junction being somewhere in their head. But Gladio had been hit with realization and adrenaline both and did not consider that until much later. "I hope you've been paying attention, Amicitia." Zell took three or four deliberate paces backwards, his eyes on Gladio as he opened up the space between them. "Because it's all the recon you're going to get on me and my moves." 

"You want me to fight you?" There was disbelief in Gladio's tone but nowhere else, as he felt his pulse trip with eagerness, his fingers tingling with excitement on the hilt of his sword. 

"No," Zell said, and he was smiling too, smiling the tense smile of a fighter at a promising challenge. "I want you to _beat_ me. Think you can?" 

"Hah!" Gladio swung his buster sword in a gleaming half-circle of steel, and it roared through the air with a sound like lions were said to make. This was better than he'd ever hoped for. "Outdated combat versus outdated combat. Seems fair."

"Let me introduce you to Alexander," Zell said, as swirls of energy began to coalesce around his fist, and the air above him warped as something massive pushed through unknowable dimensions to manifest at his call. "Your GF." Zell's grin was nothing but trouble. "Come and get it." 

* 

The roiling, molten surface of the bomb went the color of old lead as it collapsed in on itself, falling to the floor of the Fire Cavern with a metallic clank. Ignis tipped his slipping glasses up his nose, and tried not to blush at the sound of Quistis' polite applause. He wasn't immune to her charms--no matter what Noct might say--though for Ignis that had more to do with her talent and skill than her measurements. 

"Well done, Ignis," Quistis said. "For a moment I thought you might have junctioned an illegal GF, but using magic stone fragments to carry spells is quite ingenious." 

"I didn't see what choice I had," Ignis said, and sheathed his daggers again. "Doubtless I would be facing opponents I could not overcome with mere physical force, and while I must rely on you for my support, it would be irresponsible of me to take that for granted. This is a test of my skill, not yours." 

"I suspect you won't have to go to those lengths for long." Quistis let Ignis choose his own path through the cavern, and though she had brought many students here over the years, this time more than ever she was reminded of Squall's exam. Something about Ignis' practicality and competence brought him to mind, though they certainly weren't alike in any other way. "You're on track to clear this in record time, even though we don't grade for time anymore." 

"Sounds like an appealing challenge, actually." Ignis took out a Buel as though it was an afterthought, and its corpse slid into a pool of lava with an acrid puff of smoke. Ignis was about to burst into flames himself. He was drenched with sweat straight through to his uniform jacket; it made his glasses slippery on his nose and the hilts of his daggers hard to hold. Every breath was searing in his lungs, full of the smell of brimstone. "Though perhaps redundant in this case. By my estimation we've only five to ten more minutes in here before we're overcome by the heat." 

"Seven and a half," Quistis said, with a glance at her watch. "We're right on schedule." 

The atmosphere around them suddenly intensified, and the lava pool burst upwards in what Ignis took for some kind of eruption. But then the flames became feathers, burning eternally without ever being scorched, and the blood-red wings of Phoenix cast their sparkling light all through the rough stone of the cavern. Ignis looked up at her as wisps of Phoenix Down fell on his upturned face, and his heart leapt with longing and something like love. When she spoke, it was like the whisper of wind over glowing coals. 

_Ignis. Always you have mourned what you have lost, feared for what you may yet lose, and yet never has your heart wavered. Ever loyal, to any end, no matter the cost. I offer the strength to protect those you love, to mend all that might be broken. Is this your desire?_

"Yes," Ignis breathed in answer. He'd been expecting to find Ifrit at the bottom of the cavern, or some other fire-aligned beast of destruction and war. Not this glorious creature. "Yes, it is." 

_Then be consumed. Be born anew. Flame of Knowledge, come to me._

"Six minutes," Quistis said, unaware of the Eidolon's words to her student, but certain that he'd been spoken to. 

Ignis drew his daggers, Phoenix's light reflected in his glasses, in his eyes. "I'll only need three." 

* 

Noctis Lucis Caelum was glad to have his feet firmly on the ground. Or at least, firmly on the foot of air between his shoes and the ground, because Squall had cast Float on them both. The Ragnarok was a sweet ride, without a doubt, but Noct was sure he would enjoy it more on the way back from his prerequisite exam than on the way to it. He'd had butterflies in his stomach badly enough before tearing across the globe in the Garden Commander's crimson aircraft. Now, he wasn't even sure where his stomach _was_. Possibly it had fallen out somewhere over the ocean. 

He wasn't too thrilled at having float cast on him, either, especially since Squall didn't warn him first. One second Noct had his feet on the floor of the old catacomb, the next he was wafting in the air like a soap bubble. It took some getting used to. 

"It'll make sense later," Squall had said, impervious to the fact that he was strolling through the verdant maze of the tomb with his boots not touching the ground. Noct tried to make sense of the physics of it-- _how can you walk when you're not even pushing off of anything_ \--but it made his head hurt and he had to stop. Squall had a way of making things that were unsettling seem downright ordinary, either because he was used to doing extraordinary things on a regular basis or because very little inspired any expression on his face. Maybe both. Noct had mowed his way though several packs of Blobras, numerous skeletons, and any number of other monsters over the course of the last two hours, and he had no more idea of how he was doing in his test than he had when they left Garden. Squall offered neither critique nor praise the entire time, though he cast Cure when it was needed and took down monsters with ruthless practicality. But from his demeanor, he might as well have been riding a bus to an optometrist appointment. 

Noct made a personal vow then and there to never play a round of poker with Squall Leonhart. 

"So I've been meaning to ask," Noct said, as they turned a corner and came upon a hallway identical to the one they left behind. "Why is the King unknown?" 

"The King of the Tomb, you mean?" Squall snapped the chamber of Lionheart closed, freshly filled with bullets the size of Noct's thumb. "He was Dollet's last emperor, centuries ago. They say it's bad luck to call a dead king by name, so nobody knows it. Well, maybe he does. I talked to him once, but I don't remember." 

Noct stared at him. "You... talked to him." 

Squall shrugged. "I did some weird shit when I was your age." 

Noct considered this the most succinct summation of the Second Sorceress War he'd ever heard, and quite possibly the biggest understatement as well. "So there is actually a king in here, then?" 

_There is now._

Noct spun around at the voice, but with no friction between himself and the ground he went in a complete circle twice before flinging out a hand to the wall to stop himself. 

"A dead one, yeah," Squall said, not batting an eyelash at Noct's impromptu airborne ballet. "It is a _tomb_." 

_And a live one, too!_

"Did you just--" Noct began, but didn't bother to say more. Squall hadn't heard it; Noct could tell that even with the man's unreadable face. And it sure as hell didn't sound like Squall's voice. It was small and musical, and there was something childlike about it. "This, uh. This king. Was he a kid?" 

Squall had an expression then, and it was baffled. "Pretty sure it was a full-sized king, Caelum." 

_Do you think it's_ me _? Oh no, oh no. I'm not the King._

"Um," Noct said, his scalp prickling. 

_Don't be silly, ha ha!_

"So you're not hearing any of this," Noct said, hoping desperately that Squall would come clean, and admit that squeaky-piped in voices were a traditional means of testing a SeeD candidate's nerves. 

Squall gave him a long look, and dashed that hope in the process. "Are you hearing something?" 

_Yeah_ , Noct thought. _I'm hearing myself about to fail this test._ "I thought--" 

_You're the King, Noct._

Noct's Float spell expired just then, and he landed on the floor of the passageway with a stagger and went down to one knee on the damp stone. His head was spinning, his ears were ringing. Noctis had never passed out before, but he suddenly felt like that was about to change. 

"Caelum?" Squall's hand was warm and sturdy on Noct's shoulder, anchoring him back in the physical world, far away from that strange voice. "You okay? ...Noct?" 

"Something's... talking to me," Noct gasped. He reached up to cover Squall's hand with his own, hanging on to him like a rock amid a tumultuous sea. He was already convinced he'd failed the test, he might as well lose his dignity along with it. "A voice. It said--" 

_He won't understand. Of course not! You don't even understand yet._

"Might be the GF," Squall said, surprisingly reassuring. "They usually talk to the candidates. Test them out for themselves, I guess. We're still a long way from the main tomb, though, and this one isn't the type to--" 

_Oh, we worked it out between ourselves. I'm not the one Squall picked. I don't know what he was thinking! It wouldn't have suited you at all, Noct._

"It says it's a different one," Noct said, and the vertigo was easing. "So it must be a GF." 

"On your feet, then," Squall said, and pulled Noct up as he would any other winded comrade. "They sometimes have their own minds about these things. I guess I'll have Selphie come back and get the Brothers, since whatever this one is wants you so bad instead." 

"Should I be worried?" Noct asked, finding a smile from somewhere. At least he hadn't failed his test, not yet. 

"Probably," Squall said, utterly unconcerned. "Where is this thing?" 

Noct peered down the dark corridor. "I don't see--" 

_Down here!_

Noct looked at his feet. Sitting between his boots was a bright-green puff of fur with long ears and ruby eyes, one paw raised in greeting. 

_Hello, Noct! I've missed you! Nice to meet you! Good to see you again!_

Noct made a noise of alarm that someone less charitable than Squall might have called an outright yelp, but Squall was unconcerned, and only barely surprised. 

"Carbuncle," he said, shouldering his gunblade and trying to sound stern. "I might have guessed it was you. Shouldn't you be with Zell?" 

_No,_ the tiny creature said, though all Noct heard this time was a little squeak. 

"Does he know you're gone?" Squall pressed, and Noct looked on in wonder as Squall Leonhart carried on a brief, one-sided conversation with the thing, talking more easily to an overgrown squeaker-toy than he ever had--in Noct's observation--to another human being. "It might have been nice if you told him. ...I know he hasn't, but that's no excuse. ...This is supposed to be a test, you know. You can't just--" Squall sighed. "Why do I even try arguing with you? ...No. A what? What are you talk--Don't give me that. He's still my student. ...Don't bring _her_ into this. ...Oh really? _Your_ mom." Squall's eyes flashed but Carbuncle made some last, indignant yip, and folded its paws on Noct's boot. Squall made a noise of unmistakable surrender. "............Whatever." 

"Uh." Noct looked between the two of them, and in spite of Squall's scar and Carbuncle's snout, he thought they had an uncannily similar expression. "What just happened?" 

Carbuncle vanished in a shower of gold and green sparks and Noct felt something nudge up against his mind, something heavy and soft and strangely comforting. It made him feel sleepy and protected, like he was piled under blankets in a big bed, in some familiar and safe place he'd always known.

"Congratulations." Squall Leonhart spread his hands in baffled defeat. "You just got your first GF."

**Author's Note:**

> I've always thought that in the many gifts given to ficwriters, the ability to grant second chances is the most powerful and perilous. Used carelessly or too lightly, it waters down the act of ultimate sacrifice and takes away the full weight of a character's choices. Used carefully, it can grant much-deserved rewards that were never given in the original story. Much can be mended with a second chance: love and life deferred or denied, time stolen, words unsaid, deep and abiding regrets. Sometimes, characters simply deserve better. Not because their story was bad, but because of how much they gave to it, and how little they took for themselves in return. I've invoked second chances a lot in my stories, for characters I felt deserving of them. This time, it's for four of them. I hope I've done it with care. If nothing else, it's done with love.


End file.
